


Beyond the Bones, Into the Unknown

by Puniyo



Series: Code: Red Rain [3]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Freeform, M/M, Psychological Manipulation, Torture and Abuse implied, What is an ending, crude language, dystopian au, mention of sexual situations, mention of violence, philosophical stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puniyo/pseuds/Puniyo
Summary: 'Am I still human?''Javi-''Answer me!'Javier and Yuzuru learn of the true nature of the Code, one that goes beyond reality.





	Beyond the Bones, Into the Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> Dear all, I've had one of the shittiest two weeks this summer with the unbearable heat that must have probably burnt some neurons because I can't seem to function like a normal person. This installment morphed into a different direction than I've expected and I apologize for its quality.
> 
> Note 1: This is a work of FICTION, never stressed enough and it is not meant to offend anyone. 
> 
> Note 2: I'm an animal lover to the bottom of my heart, so the reference here was for the purpose of the plot.
> 
> Note 3: The title is inspired by the song 'Bones' by Equinox (Bulgaria's entry this year on Eurovision).

‘What?’ His voice is soft and seductive, his tongue tracing the shape of _his_ earlobe, a triumphant smirk on his face when he hears the surprised whimper. His fingers press into the linen fabric of the bed sheets covering _his_ waist, and further below onto the curve of his hips and round buttocks. He wants to squeeze them just to see if they really bruise easily.

‘Don’t go, Javi.’ Yuzuru recoils into himself, his head heavy in the pillow and his whole spine sinking into the mattress. ‘You will not be able to resist the Code.’

Javier stops his caresses, his fingers nested on the milky inner thighs. ‘How do you know about the Code?’

Yuzuru turns to Javier, their faces with almost no distance apart. Words don’t come out – they are lodged on his throat, constricting his vocal chords like the well tied noose he once had around his neck and each breath of his, a step closer for the knot to completely seal his airduct.

‘I was _there_.’

‘What?!’ There is confusion and a twitch of eyebrows. He tries to touch Yuzuru’s face but the young man mutters a silent _no_ on his lips.

‘I know what they have done to you.’

‘Is this some kind of joke?’ He sits promptly, a few strands of his hazelnut curls falling to his eyes and he brushes them away from his vision field. ‘Did Brian tell you?’

The silence answers all the questions he wants and even those deep buried in his consciousness – if there is still one, he fears.

‘Why are you telling me this now?’ He fights the urge to shake some sort of justification, words, any _word_ , from Yuzuru’s gaunt shoulders, even if he dislocated them. Human anatomy and assembling limbs – it shouldn’t prove much more challenge than wiring pieces of hardware.

_I still have instincts._

_Or a program to kill._

‘Did you know about me before?’

‘You’re still human Javi.’

‘Answer me.’

‘You have already rejected the Code.’

‘Answer me.’

‘Please. Don’t–‘

‘ANSWER ME!’

Yuzuru flinches as Javier’s fist hits his pillow, mere inches from his nose. The quake on the feathers, even soft and subdued, echoes through his eardrums, up to his brain and all his nerve endings. He props on his elbows, the shadow looming over him not a menacing one but it is the semblance of a frightened child. Javier’s eyes are glassy, traces of red of unshed tears.

‘You are a _failure_.’

Yuzuru expects another outburst. Perhaps a slap on his face or a punch in his guts. Or all three. Aren’t all these displays of human contact the reassurance of a connection? To reach closer when happiness is on one’s heart and to reach even closer when adversity is on one’s tongue.

There is a valley formed by the weight of their bodies and Javier feeds the abyss by moving to the edge of the bed. The wooden floor is hard on his calloused feet and his head sinks to his knees. His voice cracks under the deep breath he takes, almost like the howl of the loneliest wolf in the forest.

Yuzuru never thought he was a failure. Nothing – his arms, his back, his _voice_.

‘Am I just a machine?’

‘No. Javi–‘

‘Am I just one of them?’

‘No!’

Yuzuru lunges forward, his legs tangled in the sheets and almost falling. He opens his arms and hugs him by the neck, a kiss on the crook, connecting their wills and souls so they would never be lost. Javier jumps from the touch, throwing him back to the bed, his eyes apologizing for the use of violence. He takes a few steps further back until the palm of his hands hit the sandy wallpaper.

‘Don’t touch me.’

‘Javier.’

‘You’ll be infected.’

He shakes his head vigorously. Let the disease consume him from the inside, gauge his eyeballs and rip apart his veins if this was the punishment he deserved.

‘Leave.’

‘I will not leave you.’

‘Fine. Stay.’ Javier bites his lower lip until it draws blood and the taste of cooper fills his mouth. ‘I will leave.’

The door was never closed.

 

 

_‘Don’t! Come back Yuzuru.’_

_‘Why Master?’_

_‘There is nothing out there.’_

_‘There are people like us.’_

_‘No, we are different.’_

_‘They took my hand and they kissed me.’_

_‘Listen Yuzuru, never again touch those people. Do you hear me? People are filthy. They are miscarriages of creation. They will burn your eyes so you can’t see like them, they will chop off your ears and gnaw them like starving worms so you can’t hear like them. They will open your belly and pull your guts out so they can tie you in them until you can’t move like them.’_

_‘Don’t cry my boy, you’re safe here in my hands.’_

 

 

‘You look awful.’

‘Better than you.’

Patrick slides him a pack of half dozen beers as he perches on the passenger seat next to Javier. He closes the door, the loud thud shaking the steering wheel and the platinum bell hanging from the rearview mirror, a talisman from the old world that chimed gently. The leather of the seat is worn out, just like the faded numbers of the gear knob.

‘You still have this lady?’

‘She still lets me ride her.’

‘She’s an eyesore in the Wastelands.’

‘Just like your pretty face.’

‘I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t begged me.’

‘I didn’t beg.’

‘You called me.’

‘How is that begging?’

Javier takes out one of the beers from the carton pack. He stares at the clear green glass bottle, not cold, rather warm, no labels attached and the liquid inside darting from the neck to the bottom, tiny pieces that reminded him of quartz swimming in it. The cap is rusty but he could care less. He pops it open with a single finger movement and takes a sip. The bitterness of the malt pierces his tongue and he almost chokes. Patrick laughs and signals him to pass him one.

‘Still can’t handle it?’

Javier swallows another mouthful of it. It wasn’t so bad this time. There is a sweet aroma that lingers when the last drop goes through the esophagus, a combination of honey and mint. ‘Where did you smuggle this?’

He notices the bandages on Patrick’s right hand and shudders at the sight of swollen fingers and the missing nail on his ring finger. The one in the middle one seemed like it would peel off any time.

‘I know how, and I can find things. Isn’t it why I’m here?’

Javier nods slightly as he continues drinking, his eyes following the other man’s gesture, the way he clumsily opened the bottle with his intact hand and the way he winced at the pain. He spills a little on his navy blue shirt and curses under his breath.

‘Remember when I shoved this lovely shit down your throat?’

‘I remember how you lost a tooth after that.’

‘You were such a saint. _Santo Javier_ of the red aisle, the miracle boy. Their favorite. I really wanted to shove this up your ass that time.’

‘You would be a dead man by now.’

‘Here,’ Patrick raises the bottle in his direction, ‘to a failed murder attempt.’

‘To your sick dick.’

The sound of clashing glass is oddly familiar and soothing, both of them smiling and downing one entire bottle in a single breath. Javier shuts his eyes at the sudden dose of alcohol that shoots up his nose to his head but he laughs when Patrick burps nonchalantly from the excess of bubbles that burst at the same time.

 

 

 _‘Hey! Look at the new boy. Did you mother forget your glass slippers,_ Cinderella _?’_

_‘He was there just now.’_

_‘It’s their new toy.’_

_‘He looks like he didn’t enjoy.’_

_‘Did you ever?’_

_‘They put me to sleep.’_

_‘You’re the lucky one then.’_

_‘He has such a pretty face.’_

_‘They like pretty faces the most.’_

_‘It’s because of the other boy.’_

_‘What boy?’_

_‘The flower of the night.’_

_‘No one have ever seen him.’_

_‘I did!’_

_‘There is only shit from your mouth.’_

_Javier closes the door of his room, his cell, tired of the whining in the halls as his back slides on the wall and hits the floor. Euthanize them all, one by one, electrocute their pig’s brain and slice off their toilet cleaning tongues. Feed their livers to the dogs, to that poodle on the office. He chuckles at the thought of that woman’s pet choking on those grisly, fatty masses, and her face contorted in anger and fuming like a chimney. Oh, he would kill her, slowly, he would pluck the hairs from her scalp one by one, strand by strand, until it bled into her skull and flooded every single crevice. Her head would be swollen like a helium balloon and he would burst it so he could paint the mahogany surface of her desk with pieces of her frontal cortex – her own personal memento._

_He touches his neck, his fingertips brushing through his Adam’s apple. He rubs it tentatively in circular motions but the nails sink deep into the skin, scratching away the scar that does not exist. He shouts her name again and again, like chanting a curse._

_It’s not even his voice._

_‘You’re the only one who calls her so passionately.’_

_The other man sits next to him but he doesn’t even bother to look. There is no need to remember names and faces. Everyone evaporates soon, like the feeble flame of a birthday candle._

_‘What did she do to you? Shaved your brows? Your toes? A muscle from the ankle? Or did she take your virginity?’_

_‘Fuck off.’_

_Patrick grabs his crotch, the palm of his hand cupping his balls and his flaccid manhood through the zipper of his bleached jeans. ‘At least these are still here.’_

_Javier jolts immediately at the foreign touch. It’s in his instinct to throw a punch but the other man catches it immediately and he returns the strength of the jab to him, pressing him down into the tiles. He struggles against the grip, only to let Patrick gain easier access to his navel and the waistband of his briefs._

_‘You will not survive here if you insist being a wild horse.’_

_‘Take your hands off me.’ His chest heaves in panic, his whole body trembling._

_And he is free from the physical restraint, shackled only by his mind. For a second he sees an open spot to kick the bastard, make him lose balance and slam his knee into his solar plexus. The smirk in Patrick’s face also tells him that he knew that would be exactly his reaction._

_‘They want you broken. Don’t play their game.’_

_Javier sits, not defeated, thinking of the game she proposed to him. A pack of cigarettes lands on his lap and Patrick flicks a lighter in front of him._

_‘You won’t find any better here.’_

_He tucks one of the badly rolled sticks between his thumb and index finger and takes a long drag. He smiles. Patrick does the same._

 

 

‘How is Yuzuru?’

‘He is safe.’ The sun makes the empty beer bottle a kaleidoscope and Javier stares at the refracted prism on the dashboard.

‘If I can find you, _they_ will find him.’

‘Did _they_ ask you to bring back Yuzuru?’

‘Maybe they asked me entertain you while your boy is dragged back to room 223. How long have we been here?’ Patrick pretends to check the hours at his watch. ‘Enough that your boy is crying your name while we enjoy a holiday here.’

Fear is a shadow that seeps into the tiniest pores and paralyzes logic like the venom of a cobra. Javier lunges at the older man, pulling the safety belt near his head rest and fastens it against his neck, not depriving him of hair, but threatening to fracture any cartilage and bone under the cracking skin. Patrick raises both arms and the bottle slips through his hand to the soiled, cement floor, breaking into large chunks.

‘Some things never change, isn’t it right Javier?’

‘Was the plan to lure me out?’

‘Do you think your boy is that weak?’

‘I will not let him go back there.’

‘Do you think Yuzuru needs your protection?’

‘Where are they now?’

‘By now Brian must have had some fun.’

 _Shit_. He releases Patrick, who remains in the same resting pose against the worn-out leather and who watches in amusement as he fetches his phone, the whole operating system blocked, a useless piece of metallic junk in his hand. _Shit, shit, shit._

‘A phone. You’re truly a man of the old times.’

‘I could kill you right now.’

‘Yuzuru is gone too. They won’t find him.’

‘What? Where?’

‘Here,’ he pulls out a minuscule chip from the pocket of his pants. The shard looks amazingly small and camouflaged among the blotches of red in his bandaged hand. ‘I want to see the Code one day.’ And he throws it to Javier who barely catches it – embedded coordinates.

‘Why Yuzuru?’

‘He is the only one who can the see the Code.’

‘Was he… was he _there_ with us?

Patrick shakes his head, his tongue clicking with the back of his front teeth. ‘My _Javi_ , you are the only one who know nothing.’

Javier looks at the horizon, a yellow line peeking through the immutable clouds of grey, the stench of gasoline, spilled beer and rust seemingly enshrouding the pitiful shadow of what was left of his partner in that lapse of time, forever erased from the world’s eyes.

‘Why are you doing this?’

Patrick laughs, a bout of cough following immediately. The brutal exhalation of air is excruciatingly loud and Javier presses a hand on his thigh, silent comfort for their unspoken camaraderie.

‘I don’t know.’ He wipes off a sliver of saliva and blood from the corner of his mouth. ‘I guess it makes me more human.’

 

 

_‘Kneel.’_

_‘Fuck you.’_

_Oh it hurts. It hurts so much. Make it stop. Please. I can’t!_

_‘Only the voice wasn’t enough apparently. I should have pulled your tongue out earlier.’_

_‘Sick… woman.’_

_Do what she says. No. It will end soon. No, no! Please. No, no, no, no, no, no. She will have mercy. NO!_

_Javier contorted even more on the armchair, his fingers digging into the muscles of his biceps, until the knuckles were pale and the bones etching their curves on the skin. He charged forward, his knees absorbing the impact of the fall, as his body convulsed at the agony hammering on his temples, at the sweat prickling and clouding his vision._

_‘He didn’t lie when he told me you were special.’ She clapped her hands, proud of her choice for this mock execution._

_‘Release me.’_

_‘Why? Why freedom Javier? There is no heaven in this ill world my sweet child. Why do you want to be free? To murder, rape and plunder like all others? What’s the fun in that Javier? Tell me. Convince me my love.’_

_‘Isn’t this enough?’ His words came slurred on his overly tensed and swollen lips, between the gaps of his teeth that were grinding at such strength he might fracture his jaw. He cowered his head between his elbow, the tip of his nose meeting the abhorrent smell of bleach on the floor and the incense she lit in all her sessions. He was hard, his erection under her scrutiny in his nakedness even when clothed, not by his will but awakened by a voice that was his and yet not him. It was an illusion, one of the many, and he was starting to believe in it. ‘Am I not where you want me to be?’_

_‘Entertain me. Just a little more.’_

_Be good Javier. Let it all go. Get lost. Stop controlling what you can’t. I can do this. No you can’t. Submit. Never!_

_A small pool of wet warmth soiled his underwear and crotch as he finally fell, his arms and legs extended and limp, and his mind blank. The poodle on her arms, her favorite, ran to him and licked a rivulet of his sex. Javier could still hear her high-pitched, hysterical laughter when he finally closed his eyes._

_‘You were chosen by the Code.’_

 

 

_‘I want to go Master.’_

_‘Why do you disobey me Yuzuru?’_

_‘What am I doing here?’_

_‘I’m protecting you.’_

_‘You can’t keep me here.’_

_‘The world has been destroyed. It’s only a dream Yuzuru.’_

_‘No, you’re lying.’_

_‘I would never lie to you my boy.’_

_‘There is beauty outside! I saw it!’_

_‘The air is decayed, the earth has its womb ravaged, the Sun doesn’t rise from the East anymore. You are still a child. Sleep and forget.’_

 

 

Under the blue dim lights and suave jazz notes of the cello, Yuzuru knows he has come to the right place. _Security changes when the dance floor is red._ He sits by the counter, observing the masquerade of what they called a cabaret. Finely clad bodies dancing at the rhythm of the slow beat of a saxophone and modulated by the vocals of the masked woman. Everyone wore masks. He too, silver feathers and an intricate platinum cage over half his face, given to him at the entrance together with the transparent pill he swallowed without questioning.

‘Welcome to _Saudade_.’ It was all they said.

The music changes and more people stand up, shaking their hips and arms, touching and letting their own personal space being invaded and touched. The drug-filled laughter are contagious and Yuzuru smiles at them. Someone over the crowd waves at him but he pretends not having seen that, subduing the tickling curiosity nesting in his chest. There are hungry kisses hidden behind long blond curls and whispers louder than the piano. The air is stale but he can inhale normally and the amalgamation of body fluids, perfume, spilled alcohol in the haze of each breath of every single person there was a powerful aphrodisiac.

There is a nostalgic beauty in the underground, even away from the light.

‘Why don’t you join them?’

Yuzuru turns around and he recognizes the voice of the man. A voice with no face and now concealed by the green velvet veil.

‘Patrick.’

‘You look even more gorgeous than when you were in that room.’ He leans away a little, an automatic defense response, and his elbow almost slips from the marble surface.

‘I mean you no harm.’ The older man makes a quick swift of wrist, two fingers for the girl behind the different crystal tumblers and flutes. ‘ _They_ are here though.’

‘I know.’

‘I bet you do.’ He slides a lean, long glass of a pink bubbly liquid, garnished with an entire strawberry on the rim. ‘These are Javier’s favorite.’

‘I know.’ Yuzuru repeats, reluctantly accepting the drink. He notices how Patrick’s hands are covered in black silk gloves and the sluggishness of the twitching of his fingers. The drink is anything but sugary, unlike the strawberries Javier fed him. He blushes at the thought of the fruit filling him _inside_ , wet and slippery. The second time the liquor meets his lower lip, he pretends to take a sip, dousing only the rugged ridges like a lipstick coat.

‘Is it true when they say that a bird born in a cage will never learn to fly?’

‘If you cut its wings.’

‘Or if it is too scared of the sky.’

His head throbs not in pain but a levity almost as if he was floating and observing his own body there talking to Patrick, the way his covered hands lacked coordination and his shoulders misaligned, dislocated and put back in a precipitous panic.

‘How much time do you have?’

_Was his own voicing quivering?_

‘All the time in the world.’

The band changes, the music changes. Even the people change. It all turns to crimson in the rotation of a clock. The breach of security he needed.

‘Will you dance?’

‘I don’t dance.’

‘You won’t get there otherwise.’

Patrick extends his hand to Yuzuru and waits for him to take it. He can’t see in the fogginess of his mind if his eyes are reflecting the truth or if it was an invitation for a one-way ticket to the fences again.

‘He will dance with me.’

 _His_ voice from behind is a magnet and Yuzuru leans on that field of attraction until their shoulders meet. An ecstatic jolt tickles the ending of his nerves and he almost moans when Javier brushes his fingertips behind his ears. ‘Don’t look back.’ The words assault him with their satin disguised command and he nods. His voice is _saudade_ , a longing that can never be satisfied.

Patrick observes the way their bodies are in tune, how Yuzuru’s barriers are suddenly lowered and gone at the sound of the other man’s voice. He shakes his head, downing his drink in resignation, and turns to leave.

‘It’s not that a bird will lose its wings. A bird will forget how to fly if it’s told it’s not a bird anymore.’

 

 

_‘I won’t do this anymore Master.’_

_‘You are becoming very selfish Yuzuru.’_

_‘The Code is wrong.’_

_‘Is evolution wrong? Is cleansing the fecal people, these parasites you care so much wrong? Is wanting a future where you will live wrong?’_

_‘We are murdering innocent people.’_

_‘No one is innocent in this rotten world! Do you think your hands are clean Yuzuru?’_

_‘Please Master!’_

_‘Red Rain is necessary. We don’t need bodies anymore. These mortal vessels are corpses from the day we are born. But we can go beyond Yuzuru. My mind, your mind, we can live forever.’_

_‘Don’t touch me.’_

_‘Are you afraid of me now?’_

_‘No, Master.’_

_‘Do you hate me now?’_

_‘No, Master.’_

_‘Will you run away? Run to them so I can’t have you by my side anymore?’_

 

 

‘Do you know where it is?’

Yuzuru closes his eyes. The architecture of the building flashes in primitive strokes, floors over floors in a plain blueprint of columns and door frames. He reads strings of numbers and jumbled letters in ascending elevators.

And there is Javier. Javier’s flirty smile as he gently lays him down on the invisible floor of that space. Javier’s lips on his cheeks bones as his fingers run through the strands of his dark hair, pulling gingerly, until his own mouth opens at the slightly stronger tow and the same fingers press down on his tongue and gums, making him drool. Javier’s neck glistening with sweat and the artery that pulses vigorously making him a beast in heat. Javier’s nipples that brush against his, torturously lethargic until they are raw with the friction. Javier’s thigh that slides between his with no hesitation, his knee sweeping over his hardened length, his balls, his entrance, away and in contact again, mimicking a penetrating motion.

Then Javier crumbles, his skin melts and his bones are ashes among another string of symbols. He finally sees it – _Red Rain_.

‘Yuzuru?’

_Was this a hallucination or the real world?_

‘I’m sorry Javi. I’m sorry.’

‘Shhh. Don’t say it.’

‘I saw it.’

‘Guide me.’

He leads the way, a light-year distance between them, as they maneuver through the maze of flailing arms. A shiver runs down Yuzuru’s spine as he reaches a concrete wall. To return home, he pitifully sighs. As he raises his trembling hand to shatter another deception, Javier catches it and interlace their fingers.

‘Don’t be afraid. I promised I would protect you.’

‘Why? You should hate me. Hate me for what I’ve done. Hate me Javi. Hate me.’

It’s the crushing impact of their lips that cuts his mantra, his head hitting the wall that makes him whimper in their shared breaths. The kiss is asphyxiating but Javier doesn’t stop and he deepens it, pouring all of himself in the seconds his tongue violates Yuzuru’s.

If this was another hallucination, he would live there forever.

‘What if the Code isn’t not there?’

Javier closes the abyss between their bodies as he leans for another kiss.

‘Then I’ll fuck you in this wicked place, just how I wanted the moment I saw you with this mask.’

 

 

‘What is this?’

The four walls around them vanish into an infinite whiteness, the room liberated from any physical skeleton, space disintegrating with each step they took along the claws of gravity.

‘This is the Code.’

Time seeps through Yuzuru’s feet as he stares at the images of him and Javier above them – the ice on the departed, a mirror with charred stains, the woman of the red frame glasses, room 223, strawberry shortcake, Javier drinking of his essence, two bodies entwined in the rain, a scalpel in a surgery table, Javier’s naked body in the grass, a broken beer bottle, worm fingers inside of him, a blindfold, a silent scream, their kiss just now.

_Welcome home Yuzuru._

He would never mistake that voice. Soothing but so different from the passion and the life in Javier’s.

‘Master.’

_I’ve waited for you. I’ve been so lonely without you._

‘I’m sorry Master.’

_Come. Come back to me._

‘I’m sorry Master.’ A single tear falls from his eyes. It gets caught on his long eyelashes and Javier wipes it with his finger, tasting the saltiness. ‘I’ve seen the world and I like it.’

_You brought that filthy human with you._

‘It is not yet time for Red Rain. There should never be a time for it.’

_Red Rain has already started. It’s the only solution._

‘I will destroy the Code.’

_Destroy it? What we have been fighting for? Do you think you know what the Code is?_

A bubble of air lodges in his throat and it hurts to swallow his own saliva. When he looks around, Javier is not there anymore, only him and the voice, in all directions, no beginning and no end.

_I am the Code. The Code is me. So it is you, my Yuzuru._

‘What?’

_You are part of the Code._

‘I can choose.’

_No, you can’t. It’s all an illusion. You can go. Go. Like you did. But you will always come back._

‘This is not who I am.’

_Who are you Yuzuru? Who were you? Who do you want to be?_

‘I am…’ _Who am I?_ Why isn’t the answer at the tip of his tongue?

_You are the Code._

‘No. I am–’

_A prince of eternity._

‘I am… the Code.’

_Yes. Come. I’ve missed you._

There is a hand extended to him. Beautiful long fingers. He knows the warmth in that palm and the touch of it on his face. Whose hand is it? His own? Master’s? Javier’s?

He takes it.

The world turns into a cloak of darkness and he faints.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Saudade' is a Portuguese word that, in my honest opinion, has no proper translation in English (yes, I'm an old school linguist.  
> Shoot me). The closest would be the feeling of 'missing' someone or something, a longing feeling of nostalgia.


End file.
